woke up to the whitest
tempest
of ideas,
lying still
pondering,
powdering as flakes
of love were falling down and I
should go get them quick —
groceries. food
for thoughts.
for tough
minds and hearts and
blinds
like mine. food for mines
(antipersonnel)
that I should avoid as well as heaps
of snow covering all peace
-fully —
i’m a weightlifter
of boots and hearts.
lost in white is
my way, as is yours,
and the moon
‘s
softness,
for this overwhelming screen is
weighing on my eyelids like
the heaviest tears of women before
and now
I have things to heave,
to ease —
ebbs. flows.
periods.
full
stops.
regular is only a word
some other people have invented
to make sure they control
their snowflake intake;
I am here lying
still
on a white surface,
waiting for the beautifullest
– irregular –
snowflake to drop
again
on my tongue,
again and again.
Hiroshimem 
Wow! Your snowy poetry goes directly to the soul of things Aimée. « i’m a weightlifter of boots and hearts. » I love the way you combine the sacred and daily life. « the heaviest tears of women before » corrals me into your young woman’s world and connects me with the most tender part of my inner witch. As a French-speaking Quebecer myself, I understand the deep need to sometines use vehicular International English to reach out to the world. This schizophrenic linguistic stanza many of us share is something I like to take lightly and it’s so much fun to talk to you in French in the « real » world and to read your poetry in English online, writing this commentary in English so your readers from other parts of the world, speaking some other language I don’t speak ( one of your friends from Japan maybe?) could understand what I say.
May you have the sweetest holiday season ever, with much love and inspiration. And let’s have tea soon in snowy Montreal dear young poet.
My dear Yolande! Thank you so much. I knew you would like that verse, « the heaviest tears of women before », as it taps directly onto what Eckhart Tolle says of the PMS, in which we would feel all the sadness (and ill treatment, and compassion) of the women that came before us. This is exactly how I feel.
Yeah! I agree with you on language use. Unilingualism is not something I desire for myself nor the others, anyway.
Oui, let’s have tea in January when I am here and almost free 🙂
Bravo Aimée…petite merveille que ce texte. J’ai dû faire appel à toutes mes ressources de la langue de Molière, mais j’y suis arrivée. Peut-être pas parfaitement, mais j’ai ressenti ce que tu tentais de partager. Joyeuses fêtes. Avec mon affectueux souvenir. Louise S.
Merci beaucoup Louise! Honorée que tu aies fait cet effort pour mon poème! Joyeuses Fêtes à toi aussi.